Targeting rainbow trout @ Lake Gregory

Our friend Javier aka (el perdido) has been lost for months with real estate agents searching for the perfect vacation home in the San Bernardino mountains. This endeavor took him to the small community of Crestline and lake Gregory. Not far from the resort area of Arrowhead Lake where he finally procured his dream retirement compound. At his urging we headed into the small mountain village of Crestline to test the waters for the elusive  rainbow-trout. Our fishing party for the day's trip consisted of Javier, my son David, the old sage Bob and his son Bobby, who lives in this mountain community and volunteered to be our guide.

View @ 6:30 am above the clouds on rd. CA-138, San Bernardino Mountains

We headed east on freeway 210, exited on  waterman  ave. left turn towards the mountains on CA-18 to CA-138, continued on to Lake Dr.  took a left turn. Welcome to Crestline: Lake Gregory. We got to the lake in less than an hour from the 210 freeway exit. Bobby Jr had a wealth of information: geography, wind currents, deep and shallow areas, walking trail as well as hot spots.

From left David, Bobby Jr., Robert and Javier at the first spot to begin the day.

As always, the old sage with the first one of the day

After striking out on a couple of hots spots we made our way into deeper waters. As usual Bob, the old sage, was the first one to shout, "fish on". Jr. quickly ran for the net to helped his daddy bring-in the first one. David quickly followed bringing in a couple large ones. He couldn't contain his exuberance, "This are my first fish in many years!" he added with a big smile. David is a happy man. Being a chef, he quickly guided the conversation to the art of good food preparation and his culinary skills. And  volunteered to to prepare a sumptuous lunch with the morning's catch.
After a couple more trout and the mouthwatering, culinary conversation, Javier invited us to is compound. And placed his gourmet kitchen at Davids' disposal.

David calculating the weight of his first catch of the day.

A view from the kitchen where chef David prepared our  lunch.

Brimming with excitement and uninhibited style David searched for the knives, spices and other ingredients. In the meantime Javier guided the rest of us to a  small room adjacent to the kitchen and introduced us to a vast array of brews and world class libations. He proudly handed us our favorite choice. "This is where I plan to build my wine cellar"", he added. As he chaperoned us through his capacious mountain retreat and commodious family rooms. He asked us to share with him some monikers or names for the compound. "My wife is planning to have our priest baptize our home and we are searching for a suitable name". He added.

Javier and Mercedes' mountainous vacation compound @ Lake Arrowhead.

 After our wonderful lunch experience of  exquisite rainbow trout, it was evident that chef David had gone to great lengths to ensure a unique creation in offering a lake-to-table specialty. After a repose in Javier's beautiful home we returned to lake Gregory for the afternoon trout run. Again the novice angler, David hooked on a few large specimens until our coordinator for this trip, the old sage, called it quits. But not before Alice, Bobby Jr's mom, a long time resident of Crestline, treated us to a welcomed batch of excellent and tasty homemade cookies. Over all a very enjoyable and relaxing day of fishing with family and good friends.

A Poltergeist @ Jenks lake?

Robert has become a fixture at Jenks lake.Visitors mistake him for the caretaker.  He is on first name basis with the regulars, most of them retired anglers, who spend long hours fishing for rainbow trout planted here on scheduled basis. He is familiar with all the roads and dark trails leading in and out of the lake. He is usually the first one to arrive and the last to leave. He can be found at his favorite fishing spot with no other soul in sight.

The essence of a place blossoms or decays by the actions, of its people, past and present. It is filled by echoes of complex human interactions. The passing of time adds layers of human cross-pollination. Some positive, loving and happy. Others scarred by conflict, pain even death. And so it is for my friend at Jenks lake.

Jenks lake is located on that back side of the San Bernardino Mountains From San Bernardino (10 fwy) to Ca 38 Just go up the mountain on 38, about 45minutes, turn right at the Jenks Road exit

Robert told me of his gift, hearing conversations when no one is around and often seesing shapes and silhouettes in the dark  forest. When I asked him why he enjoys being alone at the lake, he told me that he is not alone; he senses many spirits, vitality and unexplained forces all around the lake. Robert has accepted that he has a special relationship with the enigmatic.

On a particular cloudy and rainy day, Robert invited me to fish with him. There were only two other souls present, foolish enough to brave the inclement elements rain, wind and cold. This type of weather, according to my friend, is supposed to be the best for fishing. So we went searching for his favorite spot.
As we were crossing the parking lot, a sudden chill seemed to grab hold of Robert.  "Did you feel that," he asked. "Feel what?", I answered. "That sudden chill...it made the hair on back of my neck stand up". " I didn't feel a thing," I answered. We continued walking along the bank of the lake to his spot. I noticed that  every few yard he would turn as if to see if someone was following us. Finally we arrived at the spot and began preparing our fishing poles and casting our lines into the water.  We opened our folding chairs and sat down to drink some hot tea.
After a long period of silence, Robert told me that a few weeks back he had been startled by apparition of a young woman. She materialized in a alluring white dress and veil with gold trim, in the style of wedding dresses worn  by women from wealthy families in eastern countries. Her radiant olive skin contrasted beautifully with the rays of the sun peeking through the morning mist.  "I thought she was speaking to me but I could not hear a sound". I asked him what else happened. "Nothing, after we scrutinized each other, she just passed me by and disappeared through there", he said pointing to the shadows of the thick tall pine trees surrounding the lake.  "Now that I think about it",  he mused,"she didn't appear to be walking, it was more like gliding close to the ground. "  "When I reached the waters edge, I looked for her but she was nowhere to be seen," he added with a trembling voice.  I could not believe what he was telling me. This rational man whom I have known for over 40 years, who always questioned everything and dissected every argument or thesis, was telling me that he was left aghast by an apparition.

I showed this picture to Bob to see if I could jog his memory. He said the dress looked
similar but the face was covered with a veil and she was not a Catrina

I informed Robert that I had read that at times the spirits of the dead are nostalgic about places they visited when they were alive. They make their way to earthly places that gave them pleasure. At times without realizing it, they become visible to friendly, kind persons who also have an affinity for the locale. I asked Bob if he remembered any particular scent, color, symbol or feeling. He was not sure but he told me that he began having dreams of orchids and started growing them in his greenhouse. It became obvious to me that he was being earnest about the apparition. Orchids, especially wild ones, it is said, are the flowers of the soul. Their scent attracts lost souls.

My intrigue with my friend's account of the lady in white led me to consult with a relative who has studied this phenomena. It is believed that at the time of death,  the soul begins its journey or birth in another plane. Hence the importance of correct placement of the body during burial ceremonies. The body must be placed correctly, taking into account the four cardinal points. The head is always to the west where the sun sets or dies. The feet are positioned towards the east where the sun rises, marking the life force. The correct position is with the left side to the north, cold and the right side south, warmth.

Consequently when a person dies and is properly buried the soul lives happily in its new plane. However, when a person has died through foul play and the body is haphazardly buried, the soul is not able to find its way home and it begins seeking assistance by making themselves visible to whom they perceive to be a kindred spirit. They do this, anticipating to entice a mortal to follow them to where the body lies or is buried in the hope that you will help them find their way home, in their new plane.
I urged Bob to consider this and to help this poor soul.  He asked, "Why me?" I reminded him of his relationship with the supernatural, his preference for lonely dark placed, his ability to listen to conversations when one is around his receptive nature of shadows and moving silhouettes.I suggested to him that he must  take incumbency for his special gift and do what is right, oblige "the lady in white". A lost soul looking for help to find her way. The body probably met foul play or was in an accident somewhere in the forest and her spirit is entrapped to area about the lake.

I showed  Bob a print of this famous painting, Dream of a Sunday in Alameda Park, by Diego Rivera, one of Mexico's greatest muralist in the attempt to shake his recollection of the woman at the lake. He said no, but it did remind him of another woman he knew very well, whom he considers to be a modern day Catrina. By the way, Bob looks very much like the rendering of the artist standing to the right of  la Catrina ( the lady in white)

Houses of pain, suffering and tears

The word puebleando literally means, town hopping, a quick town visit on our way to a destination. We typically stop at the town square. Here we always find the main church, city hall and some important buildings surrounding the central park. Customarily we stop and learn important information about the town by visiting the government buildings, church and take a few pictures of statues and interesting structures.
After a while we learn to appreciate the pattern , no matter what time of the day or night we arrived at the town, the church always has a gathering of people inside  They are mostly poor women, and elderly all prostrated, oppressed into in deep prayer. I have witnessed many of the faithful crawling on their knees towards their patron saint, drop a few coins into a box. They light a candle to their favorite statue or image and begin a mournful lament and prayers. They beseech help and divine intervention to ameliorate their conditions of life. No doubt they are true believers...

Mision San Pedro y San Pablo in Cadereyta

One thing I had never seen, until... I visited the Franciscan mission of San Pedro y San Pablo in Cadereyta, Querétaro México. This opulent structure was begun in 1718 but not completed until 1805. Considering that I have visited a great number of chapels, churches, missions and cathedrals, I am familiar with the strong faith and love Mexican have for their houses of worship. As I walked through this church I found myself face to face with a chapel  which its' sole purpose is to inflict pain. It struck me as barbaric. A chapel that instead of a floor, you encounter, at the very entrance, 28 precipitous cement steps. They are about five inches wide and cover the length of the chapel. the steepness is 45 degrees. Explicit directions on how to climb the steps are written on the walls along with bloody pictures of Christ. Upon entering the chapel the believer is to kneel down and begin ascending the steps with out any part of their feet touching the preceding steps, an  ordeal for any mortal in good physical shape.

On your knees reach the altar and say the prayer of the blessed one

You may wonder, who would put themselves to this type of assiduous castigation climbing these steps? Mostly elderly women, no doubt as penitence for soliciting, from their god, good health, safety and well being for their children specially those who have gone to find work in el norte.
As I stood facing this chamber of pain, suffering and tears, I wondered if the young, strong priests who had the audacity to have the rules painted on the wall of the chapel ever tried to climb the stairs on their knees? I seriously doubt it.

The 28 steps are to be climbed on your knees one by one without stepping on them use the side stairway to go down

The entire chapel is a chamber of penitence and sorrow.

Tepache a drink with Aztec origins

Tepache is the Nahuatl name given to the drink made from the cáscara de piña, the rind of pineapple. The drink is made by fermenting the sugars from the rind of the fruit. Generally, tepache is less than one percent alcohol by volume. Its' pleasant flavor reminds me of  sangria, a fruity, red Spanish wine mixed with slices of fruit and juice. It is served during the traditional summer backyard barbecue parties. It is very popular in Mexico and the southwest.
Now for the tepache...

You will need a couple of ripe pineapples. Carefully wash and clean them with a stiff nylon brush. 
Cut and dispose of the head.

With the rind removed, the fruit is ready to eat and the rind will go into the boiling pot

Cinnamon, cloves and piloncillo are the condiments that accompany the rind into the boiling pot. Piloncillo is unrefined sugar. It can be found in any Mexican market or you can substitute brown sugar.

 

Fill the pot with about six quarts of water and boil for about twenty to thirty minutes. Some purists insist that the boiling should be done in a  clay pot for a more earthly taste. After boiling  the mixture, cover it and set it aside in a warm area for three to four days. If you keep it fermenting longer, you may end up with pineapple vinegar.
 

 

After stopping the fermentation process on the fourth, day you need a large container and cheese cloth to strain the tepache mixture.

Remembering 9-11

For me this picture is emblematic of what I remember fro 9-11 thanks to Reuters for helping me remember

Where were you on that frightful, hideous morning? My wife and I were leaving home for work. We were both school administrators. She rushed to her school and I proceeded to my office at the corner of Sixth Street and Grand, downtown Los Angeles, on the 35th floor. At that time I was the director for a number school in the LA school district. The drive into the city was memorable I don't recall the usual mad rushing of cars in and out of traffic lanes. I recall there was an even flow of traffic, somber faces inside their autos, all intensely listening to the radio.
As I entered the elevator to take me up to the thirty third floor, I sensed that this morning was not the usual quiet ride with everyone looking up at the number indicator. It was a more somber, ailing elevator ride. As the elevator doors opened, each floor seemed to be accepting its share of the ailing load of disheartened colleagues and coworkers.
Upon entering my office I was notified of an immediate emergency meeting. Providing support and services to our schools was our number one priority. We needed to assess the our students, staffs and schools, provide counseling services and mental health to  the local schools and assess emergency school plans. We gathered a group instructional leaders to develop lesson plans for our teachers and students to deal with this tragedy. Suddenly an emergency call came through the building communication speakers to all high rise buildings in downtown Los Angeles: evacuate ASAP. We were dispersed to our local schools to assist them and assess their plans. I spent the rest of the day visiting classroom and listening to some very hard working teachers, teaching their students about  the days events, easing fears and calming hearts and minds.
Ten years have passed, ten years of fear, restrictions and loss of liberties. Ten years of wars; some of those kids that were sitting in my schools that day have died in that far away sand, others have returned with missing limbs and mental illnesses.Ten years find our economy in shambles and our young still dying. And us?  Still living in fear.
Ten years and we still don't have a state education curriculum to answer the questions of elementary, middle and high school students. Why? And you, what do you remember?

"Nopalitos... Nopalitos compuestos para el taco"

The summer season gives me the opportunity to get together with the family and friends.and to show off my culinary skills with the BBQ grill.... preparing delicacies with beef, chicken, freshly caught fish and ancestral recipes like, nopalitos (no-pahl-etos). A visit to  my favorite Mexican food market, often reminds me of the early days of my youth, back in Mexico city. I recall the hot afternoons filled with fun and games with my friends . When suddenly we would hear the yell and cries of, "Nopalitos compuestos para el taco". Don  Refugio, the nopalitos vendor, would arrive in our street. The ladies, including my mother would come out from their homes with their red clay platter to purchase at least a kilo of the tasty, yummy, nopalitos chopped with onions, tomatoes, chiles topped with panela cheese. The nopalitos were fully cooked and ready to eat with freshly made corn tortillas. Needless to say, the game came to a sudden end. My friends, my brother Daniel and I would quickly follow our mothers home to savor tacos de nopalitos.

This cactus, nopal is planted in a garden along with fruit trees and the lawn, not necessarily ideal
to produce off  young tender paddles. Why? too much water.

This small cactus, on the other hand is planted along a fence away from any garden. It seldom gets water
and its' growth of young, tender paddles is exactly the kind needed for a tasty dish

 
Now, here in el norte, nopalitos have become more than a salad. They're a cult exclusively in the Mexican community and fanciers of healthy eating. Just the other day, my daughter, Sara asked if I would  make an ensalada de nopalitos, cactus salad for her office pot-luck. Considering myself a premier culinarian of nopalitos, I reasoned her request as an opportunity to display my skills to a wider palate. Correspondingly I would  share this little known vegetable with a wider audience. Nopalitos  are a tasty vegetable from Mexico and southwest part of the US. It's good tasting like broccoli, string beans, soy beans or bell peppers. More precisely they remind me of okra with a Mexican flavor.

A visit to my local Mexican supermarket provided me with a venue to find all the ingredients needed. With the onset of health conscious consumers and adventurous palates you will surely find a variety of fresh vegetables, fruits and spices which not long ago were considered exotic.When purchasing nopales, choose leaves or paddles from 6 to 8 inches long, the optimum stage of maturity, taste and texture.

 These nopales above are a bit too large and mature for my taste. So I purchased a package of smaller size already cleaned and peeled, below. The only thing left to do was to wash them and grill them. A word of caution here... Most of the nopalitos in restaurants are boiled in water. This method of cooking not only washes many nutrients down the drain but also the the sensory examination is lost through boiling.  I highly recommend grilling, either on a barbecue or hibachi.

All the ingredients needed are nopalitos, onion tomatoes, chiles, cilanto, seasoned salt, pepper and extra virgin olive oil. Once your cactus are grilled, cut it into small pieces. Dice your onion, tomatoes, cilantro and chiles- remove seeds and veins.You will be able to control the spiciness and  heat with spicy olive oil.

The nopaltios are grilled, vegetables are diced un-cooked. Note that the amount with the exception of jalapeños are about equal. Salt and black pepper to taste. On the left high grade virgin olive oil infused and seasoned with chile de arbol and on the right olio extra vergine di oliva. The concluding step is to toss all the ingredients together and enjoy the earthy, smoky, spicy,  texture in every mouth-full. A summer afternoon is a perfect time to concentrate on and enjoy the succulent aromas of this wonderful salad with family, friends and a cold beer. Enjoy!

Hmm... hmm good

Nopales belong to the genus opuntia ficus-indica group of plants. They have been a source of nourishment and medicinal purpose from ancient times in Mexico. Curanderos or healers, use them to help burn victims, slicing them in half and placing the fist size paddle leaf with the open face on the wound and securing it with a bandage. I've also seen sobadores, folk masseuses, use the slimy juice as a rubbing ointment to massage sports injuries or muscle pain. You can also find the juice in soft drinks, skin medications and vitamins made from this product. But the best and most popular use is in the culinary arts... I recall  Angel, my uncle, in Mexico city, puts them whole on the grill stuffed with a generous slice of cheese, making them like a nopal quesadilla, a true delicacy!.

In Pursuit of Rainbow Trout

Three weeks ago I received an early morning call from Jorge aka "el perico" A pleasant surprise. Because parrots and he are not known as an early birds. "What's the status of the fishing trip?", he demanded to know. "I haven't received any information, are you'll trying to leave me out?" I tried to assuage his pain informing him that every thing was going smoothly and he should be getting an e-mail soon. "Don't forget I want my own room!" he bellowed... ending the call. In truth his call was a timely reminder to get the information out.

 El Perico was in charge of  refreshments and making meal arrangements for the trip. He tried his best to supply the group with a variety of drinks and other thirst quenchers, but of course the group found his efforts lacking when, remorselessly, he brought a cooler full of premium drinks for himself. For the rest of the group, he had a cooler full of lower quality drinks. Needless to say the Satyr was less-than- happy with his blunder. He exclaimed, " I am not drinking that cheap beer". Javier added, " I've seen that water for $2.19 for 48 bottles at the hardware store. It became a moral imperative to stop at a Grocery store and replenish our coolers. At this point, it was the only decent thing to do. Perico's selection of restaurants for the evening meals was more prosperous. Each evening he selected an A rated establishment with different culinary specialty. The whole group was pleased with his taste and selections. In truth, I felt a lot better the group seemed to forget his earlier miscalculation.

Convict Lake proved to be a difficult  place too hook up trout this week, they were just not interested in ending in a pan with onion, butter and garlic.

We had reservations  in Bishop CA for a week of fishing, relaxation, good food and friendship. Everyone assembled on time at perico's home. Four hrs. later we were at 8,600 ft. altitude casting our lines for that elusive six pound rainbow trout. Javier elected this propitious moment to inform us that his son, Javi, aka, The Sacramento Stinger would not be joining us because of previous commitments. This was a  crushing blow to the much anticipated contest between the Yucaipa Satyr vs the Sacramento Stinger. I should mention, there would be many disappointed anglers in the lake this week. Of course perico has his own ideas as to why the stinger didn't show up. The Satyr was equally disappointed he was looking forward to trashing that young whipper-snapper. Javier valiantly, but foolishly said, "Ill step in and take my son's mantle, it's a matter of family honor". "No way!"  perico protested. No doubt a rouse to save Javier added embarrassment. "That would be plebeian", he added. That was the end of the contest. Later  perico confided his thoughts to me, as to why the Sacramento Stinger failed to show. "Yo creo tubo miedo,  I didn't want Javier to get taken to the out house by the Satyr".

Interlocken lake as usual provided us with excellent fish. It is a wonderful place to fish all along it's shore with plenty of shade and comfortable surroundings and utilities.

Limits for everyone in our group. Bob, the virtuoso angler, was in charge of charting the areas we would be targeting each morning. Armed with relief  maps, GPS locations wind current and moon charts  he selected, for our first day, Interlocking, a small water hole on route 166 some 12 miles up the mountains from Bishop. Upon our arrival we noticed some fifty people fishing the area. Bob jettison his four lb. line some forty yards and immediately hooked an excellent size rainbow. This pattern continued, with in fifteen minutes he reached his limit. This gave him the opportunity to share his skills with other fisherman and kids who had been there for hrs. with out catching anything. Soon he had a crowd around him seeking his advice and wisdom. An ephemeral time later everyone was bringing them in. His face could not hide his satisfaction when kids got their limits. Bob's philosophy is that fishing is an active sport. "You have to stand up to fish, always hold your pole in your hand. This will allow you to feel the fish nibbling your bait" His impression is that those people who just come to the lake to sit and put the pole on a holder are not true anglers. He calls them  "passive amateurs who just want to pass the day in the open air, soak-up the sun, reading  books". "There is nothing wrong with that", he added, "but they are not true fisherman".

Nicko getting a little shade

A with a smile or just a simper Perico displays his catch for the first day

On the lake Perico was eager to show  Satyr that the lessons he received from him paid great dividends. He prepared his own gear; made his own leaders and quickly was in the water. I know that he is a faux-religious man. But never-the-less I would hear a whispering  prayer each time he cast his line, followed by a "humph" sound . He swears he caught his limit on this trip, bu no one would certify his claim. There is something to say about adult learning it's slower, but more meaningful. Well done Perico

 Nicko our youngest angler was a most ardent supporter of the old timers he helped all them bring in the fish, helped those with poor eyesight hook their line through the hook. Untangle lines and still managed to catch his  limits each day. He proudly informed us that he will be starting at St. John Bosco  High School in a couple of weeks. "We hope you will continue joining us for a few more years". Bob said. Javier replied, "I'm sure he will, if we can invite other young anglers to come along. I saw him teaching other young newbies the art of lake fishing".

After the few days spent up in God Country we headed home. Nicko as always goes home with his prized catch. I proudly reminded the group that he consistently come in second place, "yes right after me", Bob said. "I'm sure he will surpass you soon", Javier added.

A happy young apprentice with a great catch for Mom.